The fact is: Everyone is liberal when it comes to what he knows best.
In 1973, when Charles Koch invited the legendary libertarian economist Friedrich Hayek to work for him as a senior scholar to the Institute for Humane Studies (IHS), Hayek politely declined, citing health problems.
He had previously undergone surgery for his gallbladder in Austria and couldn’t afford to get sick outside of his progressive free-health-care-covering home country.
Rather than chalk Hayek’s plight up to collateral damage in the fight against welfare, Charles Koch figured that some people’s quality of life was worth taxing the public to maintain, so he sent Hayek a reply letter detailing how he could apply for Social Security in the states and sign up for some of those sweet, sweet government benefits.
The important thing to keep in mind here is that Koch isn’t just some armchair libertarian who was forced to admit under his breath that Social Security is sometimes necessary. He’s a billionaire. He could have not only paid for Hayek’s medical insurance, but bought him a whole new gallbladder made from adamantium.
Just a couple of days ago, I mused on Facebook that I’d love to start a parody of DirtyClassicRockConfessions.
Hello friends after much thought and consideration I am deleting dirty classic rock confessions. This blog has turned into something I never intended it to turn into and is very disrespectful to these people we claim to love and respect so much. These are actual real human beings. Please understand this has been a long time coming and that there wasn’t any one particular confession that set it over the edge. I know a lot of people love this blog and I am sorry but I don’t feel that we can continue running this blog anymore. I talked with a couple of my admins and they all agreed and didn’t want to take the blog over either. I will be deleting all the confessions the next few days.Thank you guys so much for following us and putting up with the blog for as long as you did.
Weren’t Jews in the South more victimized by all the bigoted Southern anti-Semites? No. Actually, the slaveholding states were far ahead of the northern states in electing Jews to high office, such as Confederate Secretary of War Judah P. Benjamin.
In general, Jews were more welcomed by Southern elites. Much as in medieval Poland, where the nobles invited in Jewish merchants to provide them the financial services that their own people were too innumerate to undertake, rich Southern Protestants generally saw themselves as an agrarian warrior class. So Jewish commercial facilitators, such as the slave-owning Lehman Brothers, who founded the future investment bank in Alabama in 1855, tended to be welcomed as complementary to the landowners.
The Projection Booth has you covered in their new podcast. These guys are always fun.
Bill McKay, from Peterborough, said The Godfather taught him that family was the foundation of society, adding: “It also taught me that gambling and prostitution are acceptable sources of revenue, but that drugs are absolutely not.” (…)
Meanwhile, Professor Henry Brubaker, from the Institute for Studies, said there remains a very small number of people in Britain who are so Christian that they actually go to church once a week.
He added: “Most of them are really quite unpleasant.”
As near as I can tell, a racist is one who approves of rigorous education, good English, civilized manners, minimal criminality, and responsible parenthood, among other things. I am, then, a racist. I see no reason to grovel about it.
I decided long ago that if, while I was doing a radio interview, a caller-in told me, “You a racist!” I would hesitate as if puzzled, and say, “… So what?”
If everyone is sick of hearing me talk about this subject, I guess now they can listen to Brian talk about it instead — another piece of cybertechnology/infrastructure is banning “conservatives,” in this case, gun purchase transactions.
She says via email:
Kathy, I just read your hilarious and insightful e-book. Brilliantly funny! And informative! (Who knew about “dino-porn”?)
I loved its laugh-a-minute pace and punch.
I see now that you are a kind of “otherkin” yourself — Mark Steyn’s lost twin trapped inside a short woman’s body.
Seriously, it’s no secret why we’re all fans of Mark; now I see why Mark is such a devoted fan of yours. I am too.
You’re a treasure.
Aaron Clarey says nice-ish things about me around the 8:15 mark (language warning)…
Just a reminder:
[T]he image of the burning river that purportedly catalyzed Earth Day and the modern environmental movement was actually taken in 1952, not 1969, because the “historic” latter fire didn’t even burn long enough to be photographed. (…)
By the 1969 river fire, the image was far more threatening than the actual event. (…) the dependence upon visual imagery is a kind of nostalgia masquerading as political strategy. And like almost all expressions of nostalgia, it is reductive and simplifies a much more complex picture…
Placed side by side, James Cagney fits Cabane’s criteria for cool far better than Humphrey Bogart. Even when merely striding cockily down a sidewalk (then dodging machine gun fire), Cagney’s background as a professional dancer was evident in almost every film he made, not just in Yankee Doodle Dandy. His sharp, frugal gestures and bits of business also live up to Cabane’s bonsai tree ideal.
(When you learn that Malcolm McDowell based his performance as “Alex” on Cagney’s screen persona, you never watch A Clockwork Orange the same way.)
We are often surprised to discover how short certain charismatic performers really are, or were. (I still refuse to accept that Freddy Mercury was anything less than 6’ 1”.) The bantamweight Cagney, on the other hand, always seemed short—but it didn’t matter. That alone places him in an even higher stratum of cool, one occupied by a very few, including Cagney’s rival, Humphrey Bogart.
Other than being shortish, Bogart’s persona overlaps little with Cagney’s. Contra Cabane, Bogart’s characters, however tough they are (or think they are) have more tics than a lice-infested kindergarten nerd.
Bogart rarely stops scratching his head, readjusting some article of clothing, shifting in his chair, or doing those weird things with his mouth.
Yet, were you to ask a random selection of fairly cultured individuals which of these two men was the “coolest,” Bogart would certainly win.
Esquire’s Charles P. Pierce, who looks and sounds like one of those old Hunter S. Thompson wannabes who are taking too long to die off, thinks that when groups like the Heritage Foundation advertise on Rush Limbaugh’s radio show, that’s the moral equivalent of 1950s “payola.”
I wonder what Esquire‘s own advertisers make of Pierce’s bizarre take on such perfectly legal, time honored business arrangements.
I was really taken aback by some of the dialogue; someone asks George Sanders about a male colleague, and Sanders drawls back, “How should I know? I’m not sleeping with him.”
It’s like Carry On Up the News Room, except this is supposed to be a semi-serious movie.
Also surprising is what an unconvincing drunk real-life alcoholic Dana Andrews is in this film. Maybe he was afraid if he was too believable, people would “find out” (what they already knew anyhow.)
It’s clearly Lang’s intention to show that the folks on the trail of the sex-crazed killer (played by Drew Berrymore’s dad) are in their own ways as sexually brazen and amoral as he is.
Also weirdly modern is the “serial killer profiler” character.
If you like crime procedurals and/or “big city newspaper” movies, check it out.
(Also: Note that the media conglomerate logo looks like Charles Foster Kane’s personal monogram):